The Racing Factions by Robert Fabbri Page A

fine and I have promissory notes from them worth over ten thousand in total.’
    ‘But Ignatius has refused to honour the bet?’
    ‘Worse, my dear man, he disappeared. One moment he was there and then after the three Reds crossed the line he wasn’t. No sign of his slaves or bodyguards, just his table was left. I would guess that he took the opportunity to get out of the city very quickly. Now I have only half the amount that I planned to bribe Ahenobarbus with.’
    Magnus cursed and bit his lower lip, thinking of Ignatius enjoying his wealth unnoticed in some far-off provincial town. Seething, he took his anger out on the people before him as he barged through the crowd. From the left the crush started to part and, above people’s heads, Magnus could see eight fasces – axes wound in rods, the symbol of power – borne by lictors.
    Magnus and his brethren stopped to give way for a party of higher status.
    ‘Who could that be?’ Gaius mused. ‘No magistrate has eight lictors.’
    As the walking symbols of Imperium pushed their way past, a grating voice called out: ‘Stop!’ From behind the last two lictors Ahenobarbus emerged and pointed at Magnus. ‘Come here!’
    Magnus approached the Senior Consul with trepidation.
    Ahenobarbus slapped his arm around Magnus’ shoulder and leant in to him in a conspiratorial manner. ‘That, Magnus, was spectacular; I’m over two million denarii better off.’
    ‘Two million?’
    ‘Yes, two. I caught the insolent little man smirking as he took my money, taking me for a fool, so I doubled the bet and Ignatius accepted it.’
    ‘But, Consul, I’ve a nasty feeling that he’s left Rome.’
    ‘Left Rome?’ Ahenobarbus’ mouth pursed in confusion. ‘Of course not, although he did seem to be making plans to beat a pretty hasty exit as those three Reds came in. However, I had four of my lictors watching him.’ He turned and signalled. His remaining four lictors came forward with a terrified Ignatius in their midst. ‘He’ll find it very difficult to leave Rome; in fact he’ll find it very difficult to leave my house until he’s paid me what he owes. Tomorrow we’re going to start auctioning his property and then if that doesn’t raise enough we’ll auction him at the slave market.’
    Magnus gave Ignatius an appraising look. ‘Might even buy him myself.’
    Ignatius’ eyes widened in horror.
    Magnus smiled his most innocent smile. ‘I expect you’re wishing that you paid me my full winnings now, Ignatius?’
    ‘You?’ Ignatius blurted, ‘You did this to me?’
    ‘No, Ignatius, you did; and, of course, the Fates who contrived to have a Red one-two-three in the very race that our esteemed Senior Consul decided to bet so much on it.’
    ‘Talking of the Fates,’ Ahenobarbus said, moving Magnus away from Ignatius, ‘who was the particular Fate that organised all this?’
    Magnus inclined his head towards Gaius. ‘My patron, Consul, Senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo.’
    Gaius tried to hide the confusion and consternation he felt but failed as Ahenobarbus clasped his forearm.
    ‘Senator Pollo, we haven’t had much contact before but I can see that you are a man of rare ability.’
    ‘I am honoured, Consul, thank you.’
    ‘No, it is I who should be thanking you; what can I do for you?’
    Gaius broke into a moist-lipped smile. ‘Well, there is the small matter of the quaestor elections coming up soon.’
    ‘Ah yes, such a wide field, so many worthy candidates; it’s difficult to choose.’
    ‘Indeed, Consul; but I feel that my nephew, Titus Flavius Sabinus, would be an admirable choice.’
    ‘I think that you may well be right, senator, I was thinking of backing him myself.’
    ‘It may interest you to know that Ignatius took a bet off me for two hundred aurei in the second-to-last race.’
    ‘Did he now? Were you lucky enough to have the foresight to bet on a Red one-two-three?’
    ‘Like you, I was divinely inspired. I only won a trifling amount, two